


The Box

by An_Odd_Idea



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Buried Alive, But mostly angst, Claustrophobia, Gen, I was in a mood, Panic Attacks, Protective Peter Parker, Sort Of, Tony Stark Angst, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Whumptober, i mean but can you blame him?, pure angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26937742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/An_Odd_Idea/pseuds/An_Odd_Idea
Summary: Whumptober 2020Day 4: Buried AliveTony wakes up in a casket.  Buried, with no idea who put him there or why.  With no way to get out or call for help, the only thing to do is wait.
Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker
Comments: 28
Kudos: 118
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	The Box

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jelly_pies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelly_pies/gifts).



> I didn’t think I’d write another Whumptober story this month, but my friend and I saw a fanart that kind of punched us in the gut so I just had to write it.
> 
> I didn’t go light on the panic, be warned.

The instant Tony woke up, he knew something was wrong.

He made himself hold still— past experience had taught him that the last thing he needed to do was draw attention to himself before he got an idea of the situation— and took in as much information about his surroundings as possible before moving a muscle or even opening his eyes. He was lying down, flat on his back, on a hard surface that felt like wood under his fingers.

More concerningly, he seemed to be wedged somewhere, it felt like between two walls, with just enough room for his shoulders to touch them only lightly. Nevertheless, he almost panicked then, with his brain already screaming that he was trapped, but he forced himself to hold still and continue his covert observation. 

It was quiet, almost deafeningly so, and Tony’s breathing felt loud in the stillness. He could easily pick up on his own heartbeat, like all other sounds had been stifled. Even the air felt stifled.

Carefully, he opened his eyes just a slit, to darkness. Then a bit more, and finally all the way, blinking in horror at what he saw.

It was dark, yes, but the arc reactor in his chest offered a small amount of light, just enough to see by. Enough to see the panel of wood just inches above his face.

Tony’s breathing sped up as he stared at the ceiling above him. It was too close. It was too close, and there was no way he could breathe with it that close. The walls on either side of him felt too tight, but he couldn’t turn on his side to escape because the ceiling was too close and if he moved he might be _really_ stuck, but he couldn’t breathe like this.

He braced both his hands against the ceiling like he could hold it off. It was solid, terrifyingly so, and it didn’t budge no matter how hard he pushed. But it also wasn’t closing in on him as his panicked mind would have him believe, and he managed to take a deeper breath. He had room. Not much room, but he had room.

Closing his eyes again, Tony took a few more deep breaths. He was okay, he told himself. It could be much worse.

Now to find out what this place was, although Tony had a terrible feeling that he already knew. He stretched out, feeling with his feet until they touched another wall and confirmed that this was indeed a sort of rectangular box that he was trapped in. Or he might as well just start calling it a casket, because he was already about ninety-eight percent certain it was. They just didn’t make person-sized boxes for very many things. 

He knocked on the lid above him, producing a dull thump that seemed muffled from outside, like the wood was covered and surrounded by something. It didn’t take a genius to guess what.

Strangely, the realization that he had been buried alive didn’t send Tony into nearly as much of a panic as it probably should have. It didn’t change his immediate situation, he reasoned, and if he could handle being trapped in a box, then it shouldn’t matter where the box was. As long as he got out. And he would like to get out, quickly.

He felt for his phone with full intention to simply call for help, but found it missing. He should have anticipated that. His watch was missing too, which erased his hope of contacting the outside world. He had to admit that was more than a little unnerving, but there were still questions that needed answering.

Tony could think of two scenarios that might have led to his being put in a box underground. The first was that something had happened and he had been mistakenly declared dead, only to wake up having missed his own funeral. The second, and more likely, was that this was deliberate; this was a move to torment either him or someone who knew him, maybe for revenge or maybe as a way to gain something in exchange for his release. 

Or maybe someone just wanted him dead and had a particularly sadistic way of going about it. But he certainly hope it was more of a ransom situation.

In that case... Tony opened his eyes again and tried to ignore the stab of fear from the reminder of how very small his space was. Complete darkness would have almost been better, but he hated to keep his eyes closed and look that vulnerable or, God forbid, _scared_ while trying to negotiate his release. Whether or not he actually _was_ that scared was one question that could remain unanswered.

“Hello?” he asked cautiously.

He felt like a fool, talking to himself alone in a box, but if there was some kind of ransom involved, whoever had him might very well expect to persuade him to pay his own.

There was no response.

“You know, I have to applaud your creativity,” said Tony. “If a sense of urgency’s what you’re going for, this is definitely more effective than the usual ticking clock. Nice touch.”

Still nothing. That was just as well; he’d be wise to conserve his air anyway. Still, he maneuvered his arms carefully in the cramped space to feel around his head and at his sides, just in case they had left him some device instead of setting up some kind of communication in the box itself. Then he folded his legs as much as he could, trying not to lose it when the close lid prevented them from moving further, and scooted along on his back to reach further. Nothing.

Well, then whoever had put him here evidently had no interest in communication. That was unfortunate; he could definitely have found a way to get a message out using anything they gave him if he tampered with it enough. With nothing to tamper with, Tony eased himself back into his original position and folded his arms.

_Now what?_

The lid felt like it was getting too close again. Tony closed his eyes, but he kept his arms folded to his chest instead of pushing against the lid like before. It made his shoulders narrower, so he didn’t have to feel the sides of the box so close to him too.

  
A long time passed. At least, it felt like a time. Tony had always hated waiting even under the best of circumstances, but this, this was on a whole new level.

Energy thrummed through his body, but with nothing to do with it, it only built and built, until he felt he must either move or explode. But he couldn’t move, because then he would touch the sides of the box (so close, too close) and he had the feeling he might panic again then. The air already felt stale, and he couldn’t afford to use it up any faster.

If he could find something— a sliver of wood, a pen in his pocket, anything— he might be able to pry the lid open and escape. But no, that was crazy, because then he would still be buried, under dirt instead of inside a box, and that would kill him.

As if lack of air wouldn’t also kill him, if he didn’t get out. And he was just waiting, just _lying here_ , letting time slip away on the off chance that someone would both notice he was missing and manage to locate him before it was too late. His hands shook with the need to _do_ _something_ , but there was nothing to do.

The frantic energy hummed through his arms stronger than ever, and he squeezed them tightly as he found himself suddenly having to hold back a scream because he needed to do something, he needed to _move_. 

He wasn’t crying, Tony assured himself, as the spasm-like moment passed. He was perfectly silent, and there were no tears; he had only screwed his eyes shut particularly hard, involuntarily, and maybe he had held his breath to keep it from catching. And maybe it had shaken anyway. Okay he may have cried a little bit, but it wasn’t like anyone was there to shame him for it.

It wasn’t like anyone was there at all.

  
Tony didn’t know how long he lay there, with the only thought in his head the desperate need to move. 

He squeezed his arms even tighter against himself, but it did no good. He was being strangled, he was going to fall to pieces if he didn’t move, but he couldn’t. His arm twitched.

His breathing was speeding up again, and he couldn’t stand it; he was about to either start screaming or just go completely insane. His hands escaped his control and reached blindly out, only to immediately hit the lid above him. It was so much closer than he remembered. He strained against it, anything to gain even another inch of room, not even trying to deny that he was crying silently now.

The lid stayed firmly in place. Of course it did. There were six feet of ground on top of it. Tony struck it anyway, as hard as he could in the confined space.

Any semblance of control was gone now. He gasped for air and he couldn’t stop, couldn’t stop even though it was going to kill him, and _he. couldn’t. MOVE._

“Hey!” He screamed out, slamming his fist against the lid again. “Hey!” Because he might scream, but even now he wouldn’t scream for help. “I’m here!”  
  


The tiny part of his mind that wasn’t completely consumed with panic only mocked him.

  
As it happened, he managed to get hold of himself relatively quickly. Still gasping like a fish, unfortunately, but no longer pounding against the lid of the box or yelling himself hoarse where no one would hear him. If this was how it ended, he would like to leave with some shred of dignity in tact. Even if no one knew, _he_ would know, and that was one too many witnesses to his final disgrace.

Of course, if they ever found him, anyone would naturally assume he had died terrified and crying for help. Probably because that would be a natural response to being buried alive, a small voice of reason suggested. But Tony was well beyond reason at this point, and even if it might be normal, it wasn’t acceptable for _him_. He grit his teeth, wrestling his breathing back under control. It really was annoying, what people would assume. 

He would have liked Pepper at least to think he’d been okay.

Because really, he _was_ okay. There was no need to lose his mind like he had earlier, like he was being crushed to death or something truly horrifying. He was only going to fall asleep, and that wasn’t so bad, all things considered. Hopefully Pepper would realize that, too. There were certainly worse ways to die.

He had hardly convinced himself of that when the box began to encroach on him again, and he squeezed his eyes shut. If only it wasn’t _touching_ him, that would be better.

And just like that, he was spiraling again.

  
  
  


There was a sound. 

It felt like years since Tony had heard any sound that he didn’t make himself. But no, this sound was different: it came from _outside_ , and he forgot all about anything else, holding his breath to listen more carefully. He wasn’t imagining it, he was fairly sure, and it was still there; a scratching, a scraping, _movement— from outside._

“Hello?” Tony shouted, and now he actually had a chance of being heard. Someone was coming, someone might be coming.

He pounded against the lid of the box. There was no reply from outside, but the scraping continued, fast and rhythmic. That had to be someone digging. It had to be, and by the sound of it, they were in a hurry.

 _Good_.

Tony was in a hurry, too. He couldn’t _wait_ to get out of this box and have space to breathe and move again. That was, as long as whoever it was didn’t miss him, or give up and conclude he wasn’t there before they got to him.

Such panic seized him at that thought that he almost lost it again completely, but he stopped himself, yelling out another hello while beating on the lid above him.

A voice, too muffled to make out any words or even begin to guess whose it might be, answered.

Tony breathed, really breathed, for the first time. Someone really was coming. “I’m here!”

More scraping, as agonizing seconds dragged on. How far could they be, if he had been able to hear them?

Not far at all, and Tony jumped when something struck directly against the wooden lid of the box. He felt the vibration all around, and it was beautiful: finally something other than the endless quiet and stillness if underground.

There was a sound of splintering wood, and the lid was wrenched away. Blinding light flooded inside, along with a small shower of dirt that spattered across Tony’s face and clothes. He didn’t care, because he could finally breathe. Fresh, clean, _living_ air all around, and he gulped it into his lungs like the casket had been a tank of water instead.

“Oh my god.”

A pair of hands practically yanked him into a sitting position, and the next thing he knew he was being hugged so tightly that it hurt. He hugged right back without a second’s hesitation.

“Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh, Mr. Stark, are you okay?”

Peter— because it was _Peter_ , Peter had saved him— was shaking and panting just as badly as he was. Tony couldn’t seem to speak yet, but he gave Peter’s shoulder a nudge with his forehead and hoped that would count as reassurance for now.

“Oh.” Peter’s entire manner changed, and he went from clinging to Tony to _holding_ him in about half a second. “It’s okay, Mr. Stark. I got you, see?”

Tony regained his voice slightly, enough to get out a strangled, “Good God, kid.”  
  
“It’s okay.” Peter even ventured to cradle Tony’s head against his shoulder like Tony had sometimes done for him. “You’re safe now.”

Despite his comforting front, Peter was still absolutely vibrating with nervous energy, and Tony hugged him tighter. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Yeah I’m— I’m good. They said they had you, and they wanted Spider-Man to come so they could catch me, and I didn’t know what to do so I called everybody but I found this place first and they were taking too long and I didn’t know— holy cow.” Peter dragged Tony impossibly closer, almost like he was trying to absorb him. “Sorry. Anyway they were taking too long so I just fought all the guys off myself and I _found_ you, Mr. Stark!”

“Yeah, you found me,” Tony laughed. It felt good to laugh, out here in the sun and the light with space to move.

“Holy cow.”

“I’m alright, kid. You found me.”

“Yeah.” Peter laughed too, probably as high on adrenaline as Tony was.

“You did good.”

“Thanks.”

Tony let go of him to drag a hand over his face, forgetting about the smattering of dirt there, which he only succeeded in scrubbing across his sweaty skin.

“Oh hey, they made it,” said Peter.

Indeed, there was a tremendous crashing, and none other than James Buchanan Barnes hurtled out of the trees, vibranium arm and all.

“You called Bucky?”

“I just kinda called everybody.”

“Alright then. Nice work.”

Bucky’s momentum nearly carried him right into the hole on top of them, but he stopped at the last second, teetering on the loose dirt at the edge. “You guys okay?”

“We’re okay Mr. Barnes,” said Peter brightly, as if he hadn’t just rescued Tony from the depths of the earth.

“Nice of you to show up,” said Tony.

“Hey, it’s only been like ten minutes since I actually got here,” said Peter. “It took me forever to find this place, and they came as fast as they could, but then I didn’t wanna wait, you know.”

“I know,” said Tony. “I meant that. Very nice, Barnes. Give me a lift out of this hole.”

He swayed a little when Bucky set him on his feet, standing for the first time in who knew how long. By then everyone was crowding around and talking all at once, which, after the silence and stillness of an actual grave, was more than a little overwhelming. 

“Can we go home now?” Peter asked in a small voice beside him, and from the look on his face he must have felt about the same.

“Yeah kid.” Tony dropped a heavy arm around his shoulders. “Let’s round up the rescue squad, and we’ll go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> Please don’t copy or print this story outside this site
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated, or come visit me on tumblr @an-odd-idea


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